


The Tale of Two Blood Brothers

by so_shhy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Fairy tales are grim, Gen, Thorin has ulterior motives, Thorin's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_shhy/pseuds/so_shhy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed. “Now,” he said, “are you boys brave enough for a frightening tale?”</p><p>And this is the story he told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tale of Two Blood Brothers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tawabids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tawabids/gifts).



> This is a gift fic for Tawabids, who challenged me to write something unpleasant... which I obviously failed to do, since it's about kids getting told a bedtime story. In the story, fairly horrible things happen. It's sort of... major character death once removed. Be reassured, though, the worst that happens to the real Fíli and Kíli is that they need a hug from their mum.
> 
> Huge thanks to [thewalrus-said](http://thewalrus-said.tumblr.com/) for the beta!

One day in every seven, Thorin Oakenshield took supper with his sister and her little sons. On this particular day, when he arrived, his nephews were in the yard, on the scrubby patch of grass where they played. He paused outside the gate to watch them.

The boys were sitting in the midst of a scattering of jacks and marbles, talking. Since Fíli had started learning his runes and taking his lessons in the schoolroom with the bigger children, these conversations had become more common. Fíli had taken it upon himself to pass on what he had learned to his little brother, giving garbled explanations of where Mirkwood was, or how to count on an abacus, or what types of peoples lived in Middle Earth.

Today’s topic in the schoolroom had been the kings of the line of Durin, but the conversation had rambled some way on from there.

“No,” Fíli was saying, in a tone of mild impatience, “it doesn’t matter that we don’t live under the Mountain anymore. Uncle Thorin’s just as important as the old kings. He’s Durin’s heir too. That’s why we have to do as he says, and always tell him the truth.”

Kíli considered this, chewing on his fingernail. “That’s not because he’s king,” he said finally. “Mama’s not king, and we have to do as she says. And we have to tell her the truth.”

Fíli sighed. “I know that, silly, but lying to the king is worse than lying to Mama. You mustn’t lie to Uncle Thorin _ever_.”

Kíli frowned. “You lied to him,” he said.

“No I didn’t!” said Fíli, affronted. “I wouldn’t.”

“You _did_. Last week when I ate the spice cakes. You pretended that you did it so I wouldn’t get punished.”

Fíli wrinkled his nose. “That’s different,” he said.

“Why?”

“It just is.”

“But _why_?”

“Because he’d have made you go in the cellar with the spiders, and you’d have cried. You hate spiders, and I don’t mind them. If he has to lock one of us in there, it ought to be me.”

“Next time, I’ll sneak down and let you out,” said Kíli seriously. “I don’t care what Uncle Thorin says. I don’t care if he’s king.”

Fíli laughed. “Just stop eating Mama’s spice cakes, greedy-guts,” he said, and pulled Kíli’s head down to muss his hair. Kíli wriggled indignantly and pushed back, and Fíli tried to sit on him, and there was a great deal of tickling, and squealing, which only stopped when Dís’s voice called out, “Boys! Come inside and wash your hands for dinner. Your uncle will be here soon.”

The boys scrambled up obediently and scampered towards the door. Thorin followed more slowly.

When he knocked on the door he was welcomed by the smell of fine cooking and shouts of delight from his nephews, who grasped his hands and tugged him every which way to show off their drawings and their treasures ad tell him all about the happenings of the week. Over dinner they were well-mannered enough to sit quietly and listen when their elders were talking, but at every break in Thorin and Dís’s conversation one or other of the boys would start to chatter, or ask any one of a million questions.

As the meal drew to a close, Dís stood up from the table. “Thorin, you’ll stay for another glass of wine, once these two young scamps are in bed?” She sighed as she said it. Putting two squirming young dwarves to bed was a trial on any night, but when Fíli and Kíli were overexcited by a visit from their uncle things were even more difficult than usual. “Boys, go and brush your teeth and put on your nightshirts.”

The boys pattered away obediently. When they reappeared, little faces freshly washed, they looked no less wide awake than they had all day.

“Now, hop into bed and I’ll come and kiss you goodnight,” said Dís.

“We’re not tired, Mama,” said Fíli.

“I don’t care if you’re tired, you should be in bed.”

“But Uncle Thorin’s here,” Kíli whined.

Dís glanced over at her brother with entreaty in her eyes. “What if Uncle Thorin puts you to bed?” she said.

Kíli looked thoughtful. “Well… okay,” he said.

Together Dís and Thorin shepherded the boys into the tiny bedroom they shared. Thorin tucked them both into the bed, lying side by side, and pulled the covers up to their chins. It lasted all of three seconds, before Kíli wriggled up again and bounced on his knees.

“But, Mama, what about a story?” he asked.

Dís shook her head. “I’m too tired for stories tonight.”

“No, we want Uncle Thorin to tell us a story.”

“Shush, Kíli,” Fíli said, elbowing him in the side. “Uncle Thorin doesn’t want to tell us a story.”

“He _does_ ,” Kíli said, pushing back at Fíli.

Thorin laughed. “Stop fighting,” he said, “or there’ll be no stories for anyone.”

Fíli sat down with a thump. “Really? You’ll tell us a story?”

“If you lie down quietly and behave yourselves.”

The boys scrambled to get back under the blankets, and gazed up at their uncle with expressions of angelic goodness. Thorin laughed and ruffled their hair. “Alright,” he said. He glanced up at Dís. “Go on, Dís. I’ll spin your boys a tale.”

She shot him a suspicious look, but made her way out of the room, leaving Thorin with his nephews. Thorin made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed. “Now,” he said, “are you boys brave enough for a frightening tale?”

They both nodded fervently.

Thorin smiled. “Well then,” he said, “I’ll begin.”

And this is the story he told.

***

Thorin, King under the Mountain, had a distrust of others that was as great as his love of gold. He was no coward; he didn't fear an attack from his enemies either outside his court or within it, but he expected one, and planned for it. So one day he called on his sister, the master smith and wizard Dís, and said, "Make me a creature of iron to serve as my bodyguard."

"I can do many magics,” said Dís, “but nobody can give life to iron."

So Thorin said, "Make me a creature of iron and flesh."

Dís lived with her son, Kíli. He was her apprentice, and also Thorin's heir. Kíli was light hearted and fond of a joke. He cared more for friends than for gold and jewels. As heir and apprentice he was kept busy, and often he had no time for friends. Despite his light heart he was lonely. Often he wished for a brother to share in his doings and join him in adventures.

( _“But he had a brother!” Kíli protested, sitting up all in a hurry. “And he wasn’t Thorin’s heir. What about Fíli?”_

_“This Kíli didn’t have a brother,” said Thorin. “And this Kíli was almost grown up, and nowhere near as troublesome as you either. Lie down.”_

_Kíli lay back down, pouting._ )

Dís didn't tell Kíli of Thorin's command at first. She knew the task was within her power, but she also knew it was an unnatural thing. She wouldn’t risk her son to achieve it. But Kíli was curious. He asked her again and again what she was doing in the locked workshop where he was not allowed to go. Kíli pestered and pestered as only he could, and because Dís really did need an assistant she eventually let him come in and see the suit of armour that she had made.

"Who will wear the armour?" Kíli asked.

"Not who, but what," said Dís. She told him that inside the armour she would put flesh, so that the metal might come to life. Not the flesh of a dwarf or an elf or a goblin, or even a beast; empty flesh, so that the creature would have no needs or wants, save to obey the king. 

"How will you make the flesh?" Kíli asked.

"I'll take the flesh of a beast,” said Dís, “and strip it of all its identity, and I'll set a seed of it inside the armour and leave it to grow. And you will help me tend to it. It will need to feed as it grows, like a child in the womb."

Dís set the armour into a vat of liquid, and showed Kíli how to tend to it and cover it and protect it. She told him that if so much as a fly fell into the vat, the flesh would no longer be empty, and nobody could predict what would grow. So Kíli tended to the creature made of empty flesh. He took great care of it, because he knew that when it was full grown it would protect his uncle - and Kíli loved his uncle and was loyal to the king under the mountain. But one night, when Kíli had found a rare opportunity for merriment with his young friends, he was late in his duties and had to rush to be in time to give the creature its nourishment. In his hurry he tripped over his own feet. He grabbed for a shelf to keep from falling, and ran on without realising that he had cut his hand.

( _“Didn’t it hurt him?” Fíli asked. “Kíli always cries when he cuts himself.”_

 _“Not this Kíli,” Thorin said. “He’s quite different to your brother. Remember that, Fíli.”_ )

When Kíli finally arrived at Dís’s workshop he opened the vat, did all that was needed to tend to the creature, and then moved to cover it up. As he did so, he noticed the cut on his hand. In that instant a droplet of his blood dripped from the cut into the vat. 

Kíli watched the red blood fade away into the water. He remembered his mother's warning that if so much as a fly fell into the vat it would pollute what was growing inside. But surely, he thought, a drop of blood is less than a fly. A fly is a whole creature, and a drop of blood is nothing at all. He didn't want to worry his mother and delay her project, or face his uncle's anger, so he decided to keep what had happened a secret. And that was what he did, even though the thought of that blood drop niggled at him, and sometimes in the following days he lay awake at night.

Soon enough Dís declared that the flesh must be full grown. The creature was ready to wake up. It would need to be trained in fighting and other various things before it was ready to become Thorin's bodyguard. That was Kíli's job.

Before Kíli began training it, Dís cast a spell to teach the creature language and basic understanding and an eternal loyalty, so that it would obey Thorin. Then she told the creature to rise out of the vat and go with Kíli.

Kíli led the creature out into the training grounds. As it walked it turned its metal-helmed head from side to side, as though it were interested in its surroundings. Once or twice it even paused to look at something and then had to hurry to keep up. Kíli frowned at it, worried. The creature wasn't supposed to be interested in anything except protecting the king. Once again he thought about that tiny drop of blood and he wondered what had grown inside the armour. As they walked he became more and more nervous. He knew he had to discover the answer, or else he might go mad wondering. So when they came to the training grounds he ordered the creature to stop. It obeyed, and stood looking around with the same interest as before.

"Take off your helmet," said Kíli.

The creature lifted its hands to remove its helmet. Kíli steeled himself. He imagined some hideous, bald thing, with blank black eyes and a lipless hole for a mouth.

( _Kíli gripped tight to Fíli’s hand under the blankets._ )

But when the creature's helmet was only half off, locks of corn-coloured hair fell down across its shoulders; and when the creature set the helmet aside and shook its hair back away from its face, it was just a dwarf - much like Kíli in looks, and as fair and handsome as you ever did see.

( _“Oh,” Kíli said, bouncing up again, beaming. “That’s Fíli!”_

_“Do you want me to finish this story or not?” asked Thorin._

_“Yes, Uncle Thorin.”_ )

"Hello," said the dwarf.

Kíli was astonished. Here was no nightmare monster, only a friendly face. The drop of blood had done its work, and instead of a creature of metal he had what looked to be a dwarf grown by magic.

Kíli bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder, just in case Dís might be watching him. He knew this wasn't what his mother had intended, and he had no idea if a dwarf grown by magic would be good or evil. But above all else he had been taught to have good manners, so he politely said, "Good morning."

"What's your name?" asked the dwarf.

"Kíli, son of Víli, at your service," said Kíli. "What's your name?"

"I don't have one," said the dwarf, "and as far as I can tell I'm not the son of anyone. But I am most certainly at your service." He laughed. It was an infectious laugh, and Kíli smiled back at him.

"So," said the dwarf, "the wizard said you're supposed to train me. Shall we begin?"

Kíli couldn't refuse. He took two wooden practice swords and began to instruct the dwarf in swordplay. The dwarf was an apt pupil. He delighted in the lesson, laughing his infectious laugh, and asked Kíli a great many questions about life under the mountain. He cracked jokes too, and was altogether pleasant to be near. At the end of their training session, Kíli found he'd had more fun than he had in months, or even years.

They sat down and shared Kíli's lunch, and Kíli told the dwarf the tale of how he came to be - including the drop of blood that had transformed him from empty flesh into a dwarf.

"So I am not supposed to be as I am?" said the dwarf.

"I'm glad you are as you are," said Kíli. "I've never met a dwarf I liked better."

The dwarf smiled. "You are the only dwarf I’ve met, but I like you a great deal. Since you're responsible for my existence, would you give me a name?"

Kíli thought for a moment, and then he said, "I should like to call you Fíli."

( _“I told you!” Kíli whispered to Fíli._

 _“Shush! Let Uncle Thorin tell the story.”_ )

The dwarf frowned. "That can't be my name," he said. "Fíli and Kíli are brother-names. I'm not your brother. I was made to protect the king."

"You have my blood in you," said Kíli, "and I've always wanted a brother. You could be the king's bodyguard part of the time, and when you are alone with me you could be my brother."

Fíli looked wistful. "I wish I could," he said, "but if I were to be alone with you the king would be unprotected."

Kíli thought for a moment. Then he said, "What if there were another to take your place?"

Kíli went to his mother. He told her, "The creature has to eat and sleep. We must make another one, so that one can guard the king while the other rests."

Dís began to work the iron for another suit of armour. In the meantime Kíli continued to train Fíli. During the training they laughed and sparred together as brothers do, and they much enjoyed each other's company.

( _“And they didn’t quarrel,” Thorin added. “Unlike some little dwarves I could mention.”_ )

About the time that Fíli was trained and almost fit to begin his work, Dís finished creating the second creature. Fíli and Kíli took it out into the training grounds, and began to work with it. The creature didn't speak or move, except to obey commands. Kíli didn't ask it to remove its helmet.

"That's how you should act when you're with other people," Kíli told Fíli. "If they knew you were a real dwarf they might call you an abomination and drive you away."

"That creature is more of an abomination than I am," said Fíli, "but I think you're right, little brother."

( _“Why did he call Kíli ‘little brother’?” said Kíli. “Kíli’s older. Fíli’s only just been born.”_

_“Because Fíli’s beard was longer,” said Thorin._

_“Hah,” said Fíli smugly._ )

Soon Kíli and Fíli completed the creature's training. From then on, Fíli and the creature took turns guarding Thorin. When the creature was guarding, Fíli ate and slept and spent time with Kíli. When Fíli was guarding, the creature stood silent and still in the corner of Fíli's bedchamber. Thorin was pleased with his bodyguards, and Dís was satisfied, and all were content, save, perhaps, for the creature. But who cares for the feelings of a creature made of empty flesh?

Life went on under the mountain. It seemed like Fíli and Kíli could enjoy being brothers with no ill effects to anyone. But then one day Thorin took Kíli to the study where he kept the secret books and records and maps that only the king and his heir could see. Fíli went with them, because it was his turn to guard the king; the creature was waiting in his quarters.

At the old oak desk, Thorin took out one of the maps that showed the hidden pathways of the mountain. He began to point out details to Kíli. Fíli hastily looked away. He was, as ever, loyal to Thorin, and he didn't want to look on something forbidden.

Suddenly Fíli felt eyes on him. Thorin had fallen silent. Fíli glanced up to find the king watching him.

"Why did you look away?" asked Thorin.

Fíli didn't know what to do. He'd promised Kíli that he'd stay silent, just as the creature did, but Thorin was the king and had asked him a direct question.

"Answer me," Thorin commanded.

( _Kíli held onto Fíli’s hand again. “He mustn’t tell,” he whispered._

 _“He has to tell,” Fíli whispered back._ )

Dís's magic had made Fíli truly loyal. He had no choice but to answer. "I didn't want to learn secrets that weren't mine to know," he said.

Thorin's face darkened. "Creatures such as you shouldn't have the power of speech," he said. "Take off your helmet."

Obediently Fíli took off his helmet, so Thorin could see his golden hair and his face that was so much like Kíli's.

Thorin's mouth tightened in fury. He turned to Kíli, who was biting his lip nervously.

"You knew of this," he said.

Kíli nodded.

"Is this a dwarf traitor you've disguised as my bodyguard, or it is it the creature your mother made?"

Kíli, shaking and pale, spilled out the story of the drop of blood and all that had come after. All the while Fíli stood quietly, a few steps away.

Thorin was furious. His nephew and heir had lied to him, and knowingly let him be guarded by a creature that was not as it seemed. Thorin knew Kíli had even hidden the existence of this magical abomination from his own mother - for Dís wouldn't have been a party to such treachery.

"Do you know what this type of magic can lead to?" Thorin asked.

Kíli shook his head.

"It leads to evil creatures like the orcs of the Misty Mountains,” said Thorin. He looked over at Fíli with disgust in his eyes. “Kíli, I'm ashamed of you. Kill this abomination now, before it can do any more harm."

( _Kíli gave a little whimper._ )

"No!" said Kíli. "He hasn't done any harm. He isn't an abomination. You're the one who told Mother to create a magical creature."

"I told her to create a mindless automaton, not a false dwarf," said Thorin. He drew his sword. "This thing has to be killed."

Kíli jumped in front of him. "He's not a thing!” he said. “He's my brother."

"Kíli, stand aside."

"No, Uncle, I will not."

Thorin's voice went very cold. "I don't ask this as your uncle," he said. "I command it as your king."

Kíli raised his chin and didn't move.

( _“He wouldn’t do that,” Fíli said. He had his arm around Kíli, who was shivering a little. “Kíli would do as you told him.”_

 _“This Kíli isn’t your brother,” said Thorin. “I told you to remember that.”_ )

Thorin gave a bitter laugh. "I see how it is," he said. "I'll deal with you later, Kíli. But first..." He looked at Fíli dispassionately. "Creature, take your dagger and cut your own throat."

( _“I don’t like this story!” Kíli said, and started to cry quietly against Fíli’s shoulder._ )

Fíli's hand moved inexorably towards the hilt of his dagger. "Please," he said. "Please, my king, I only want to serve you."

"Then you can serve me by dying."

"No," Kíli cried. "Fíli, don't. Drop the dagger. You don't have to do as he says."

"I do," said Fíli. His hand gripped the dagger. His eyes were full of horror as he raised it to his throat. "He's the king. I have to obey the king."

"Thorin, tell him not to," Kíli begged. "Please!"

Thorin shook his head. "It has to be done, Kíli," he said. "A king must protect his people. I won’t have evil magic in the mountain."

Kíli’s breath hitched in a sob. He drew his sword. "Fíli obeys the king," he said. "If you die, I'll be king."

Thorin stared at him. He raised his own sword. "You would betray me for this creature?"

There were tears on Kíli's cheeks, but he stood firm. "Not for a creature. For my brother," he said, and stepped forward.

"Kíli, no!" called Fíli, but Thorin and Kíli were already locked in combat. Fíli looked on in horror. His own knife was at his throat, and he struggled desperately against the compulsion to make that fatal slash across his arteries. He could only stand helplessly and watch as Kíli and Thorin fought.

Kíli was lithe and quick, but Thorin had many years of experience and the strength that is born of war. There was no doubt in Fíli's mind how the fight would end. He imagined Kíli crumpled on the floor breathing his last, and it felt like a nightmare. His hand shook, and the knife trembled against his throat. Then it seemed the nightmare would come true. Kíli was down, sprawled on the cold rock, and Thorin stood over him, sword raised and ready to strike.

( _Kíli sobbed. Fíli stared at Thorin. His lip trembled._ )

In that instant Fíli could move again. The dagger clattered to the floor. He loosed his sword from his scabbard. Leaping forward, he swung it upwards and turned Thorin's blade away before the killing blow could fall.

Roaring in rage, Thorin turned on Fíli, sword flashing as it swung. Fíli stood frozen once again, unable to withstand Dís's spell. He couldn't strike out at Thorin. He couldn't even raise his sword to defend himself. "Kíli," he said quietly, and took one last look at his brother before Thorin's sword bit deep into his neck. In his last moment of life, Fíli saw Kíli cry out in desperation and strike out with his sword one more time.

Kíli’s blade drove home, true and strong. It entered Thorin’s chest and pierced his heart. 

Both bodies fell to the ground as the king and the bodyguard died together. The floor was awash with their mingled blood.

( _“Stop,” said Fíli. “Uncle Thorin, stop.”_

 _“The story’s not over yet,” said Thorin._ )

Kíli stood over the bodies. His chest was heaving, and his eyes were wide with disbelief. It had been the work of seconds, and now two of the people he loved most in the world lay dead at his feet. He was a murderer, a regicide and a traitor.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “Thorin, I’m sorry. He was my brother.”

There was blood on his clothes and soaking into his shoes. It left grim red footprints as he ran out of the room. He ran down passage after passage until he arrived at Fíli’s chamber.

There in the corner stood the creature – the real creature of empty flesh, the one his mother had intended to create. It didn’t move as he came in. It didn’t turn its head.

“I killed the king,” Kíli said, gasping out the confession as though it were torn from his chest.

The creature was silent.

“Did you hear me? I killed the king, your master.”

He might as well not have spoken for all the notice the creature took.

Kíli fell to his knees. For a few minutes he wept, with his head bowed. Then he raised his reddened eyes. “Take off your helmet,” he said.

The creature raised its metal gauntlets to its helmet, and pulled it off. There was a hideous tearing sound, like someone hacking at raw meat with a blunt knife. Kíli gave an involuntary cry. Here was the creature of his imaginings, with its lipless mouth and black holes for eyes, and a head that seemed no more solid than jelly taken out of its mould, with no skull at all inside it. Tendrils of flesh hung loose where they had been torn away from the inside of the helmet, but there was no blood. Not a single drop.

Kíli looked the creature dead in its empty eyes. “I am your king now,” he said. “You must obey my orders. I order you to take your sword and kill me.”

He watched as the creature raised its sword, and then he closed his eyes tight and pictured his brother’s face on the inside of his eyelids. And that was the last thing he saw.

( _“No!” said Fíli. He was crying almost as hard as his little brother. “Uncle Thorin, he didn’t. It isn’t fair.”_ )

It took until the end of the day for Thorin and Kíli to be missed, and a little while more before someone thought to search the king’s study and the bodyguards’ room. They discovered the dead king and the body of an unknown dwarf, and they discovered Prince Kíli lying dead in front of the hideous, helmetless bodyguard.

Many people tried to guess what had happened that night, but nobody ever learned the whole truth.

The throne was taken by Dís, who in her grief ruled wisely and well. One of her first acts as Queen Under the Mountain was to decree that any person who sought to bring iron to life would be instantly put to death.

***

“And that, boys,” Thorin said, standing up and looking calmly down at his two tear-stained, sniffling nephews, “is the end of the tale. Good night to you both.”

He left the candle burning. He wasn’t so heartless that he’d leave the boys to cry in the dark. As he came out of the bedroom Dís stepped into his path, looking decidedly unimpressed.

“Well,” she said, “thank you for that, Thorin. I dare say I’ll be dealing with nightmares for the next month. Is there a reason you felt the need to terrify your nephews by mis-telling old tales? I swear when Grandmamma told me that story the names of the brothers were not Fíli and Kíli.”

Thorin poured himself another glass of wine, before settling himself down in the easy chair by the fireside. “Stories have meaning,” he said.

“And what was your meaning? To teach them not to pester you to put them to bed again?”

“You know my meaning, Dís,” said Thorin.

She glared at him. “Perhaps I do. And perhaps I think you’re an old fool.”

Thorin snorted. “Well, if their mother is so proper and respectful, I don’t doubt the boys will grow up just as they should.” He held his glass up to the firelight, tilting it so the wine shone ruby-red. “I heard them speaking earlier today, and their attitudes need to be nipped in the bud. I love your sons, Dís, and I’m glad that Fíli is my heir. But the line of Durin is built on loyalty, not on love. Loyalty to the king. What if I were to have a son of my own one day? I need to be sure where your boys’ loyalties lie.”

“They’re children,” said Dís. “How can you question their loyalty before they’re old enough to braid their own beards?” She peered into the bedroom, where the boys were huddled together in each other’s arms. “And if you were hoping to teach them not to love each other quite so dearly, I think your plan failed.”

“They cling to each other now, because the lesson isn’t so quickly learned,” said Thorin. “I think the seed has been sown. You should thank me, sister. It’s for their own safety.”

Dís’s mouth tightened. “And what will you do if they grow up more loyal to one another than to you?”

“If you raise them wisely, you’ll never need to wonder.”

Dís turned her back unceremoniously on Thorin and went to comfort her boys.


End file.
